


Set Me Free

by Chummy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Goro Akechi is not okay, M/M, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Therapy, akechi dealing with his mental health, all of them dealing with therapy tbh, but he will be, not the maruki kind, set after royal and akechi is there and he has to deal with life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25606207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chummy/pseuds/Chummy
Summary: Therapy huh? He snorted once, soft enough not to disturb Akira. Looking up at the ceiling he breathed, head filling and filling with nothing and everything at once as the sun moved across it. He breathed once, twice. In and out, almost to remind him that his lungs worked, that his heart beat, that he was alive, alive, alive.He was alive and it felt like anything but a gift. He shifted slightly at the thought, Akira grumbling in protest.Akechi sighed once more, charged with his thoughts. He brought one hand to Akira’s hair, running through it to ground himself from his head, to apologize for thoughts Akira can't possibly know he had.After all, how could he look at the reason he was alive today and tell him he didn't want it anymore?He closed his eyes, counted his breaths. He didn't sleep and the world kept turning anyway.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 109





	Set Me Free

**Author's Note:**

> This is Kinda venty tbh but Im lowkey proud of it. short lil thing. Not enough fics of Akechi actually getting the help and support he deserves so here we go folks. This is set after royal, and endgame is not specified cause I haven't finished royal so, this is my canon now. 
> 
> If this is a bit ooc, i apologize, just wanted sumthin soft. 
> 
> Title and lyrics from Mitski's Abbey.

_There is a light, I feel it in me_

_But only, it seems, when the dark surrounds me_

_There is a dream and it sleeps in me_

_Keeps me awake in the night_

_Crying sets me free_

_And I wake every night_

_Crying sets me free_

“You should probably see a therapist,” Akira had said once. Once it was all over and settled and Akechi was alive, alive, alive. He was staring at a ceiling he had grown accustomed too, dusty and familiar. Akira lay at his side, the soft glow of morning rays coming through the curtain welcoming the two too a long day after a long night of shared insomnia. 

Akechi laughed in his face, harsh and bitter. “After everything you expect me to talk to a therapist? Voluntarily? Fuck no,” He looked at Akira for a little bit after that, in awe of his avid stupidity to even suggest that after the hours they spent grueling away inside some wack job therapists mind. 

“Not every therapist has the power to change a person's cognition Goro,” Akira replied, and he was right of course. Akechi was still trying to get used to admitting that. 

“Still, some can slip through the cracks,” He replied, and Akira laughed and that was all the therapy Akechi could need. 

“If they do, we'll just beat their ass again, no big deal,” Akira said matter of factly and refused to let the subject drop. 

Akechi wished he could relate, say that it wasn't a big deal and agree. But it wasn't true and he's been dealing in lies less and less lately. Enough that the only ones he told were to himself when he woke up and pretended that he didn't feel like he was drowning in a blackened sea with the weight of the world on his chest. 

He was fine really. 

“You should see a therapist,” he said instead and Akira laughed again and it sparked something in his soul, enough to remind him he still felt, enough to flood his body with relief at the fact he could feel more than just pain. Even if just a bit. 

“I am going too,” Akira replied evenly and all his retorts died in his throat. “Eventually, when I find the right one, I’m gonna go.” Akira’s face was set, not stoic, just softly determined. Akechi could only watch. 

“Even after everything that happened?” he said, leaning closer to him, ignoring the way it made him go slightly breathless from the energy it took. Akira brought a hand up to his face, caressing it softly and Akechi took it as a win when he didn't flinch at the movement. He was getting better at this. Therapy who?

“Because of everything that happened,” Akira replied and Akechi understood. Looking into stormy grey eyes and feeling like he could see Akira truly, not for the first time.

“Tough being a leader huh?” he chuckled, it lacked actual amusement but Akira smiled anyway. 

“You could say that,” Akira sighed and that was the end of the conversation as he closed his eyes, fruitlessly, the two of them had been tossing and turning in the tiny bed all night. Until Morgana got fed up with it and kicked them out to the couch to pass the time watching low quality movies. 

Akechi looked at Akira a bit more, a habit he had acquired since his first meeting with Akira months ago. Ever since he first laid eyes on him he couldn't look away. It was like his center of gravity had changed now the only thing pulling him forward and grounding him was Akira’s eyes on him. 

He sighed as he laid back down, shuffling a bit as Akira wrapped himself around Akechi as best he could, the ever present weight on his chest easing a bit as it turned into the familiar feeling of Akira’s soothing heat. 

Therapy huh? He snorted once, soft enough not to disturb Akira. Looking up at the ceiling he breathed, head filling and filling with nothing and everything at once as the sun moved across it. He breathed once, twice. In and out, almost to remind him that his lungs worked, that his heart beat, that he was alive, alive, alive. 

He was alive and it felt like anything but a gift. He shifted slightly at the thought, Akira grumbling in protest. 

Akechi sighed once more, charged with his thoughts. He brought one hand to Akira’s hair, running through it to ground himself from his head, to apologize for thoughts Akira can't possibly know he had.

After all, how could he look at the reason he was alive today and tell him he didn't want it anymore? 

He closed his eyes, counted his breaths. He didn't sleep and the world kept turning anyway. 

  
  


-

He’s back in his apartment. He’s back and it feels so much different from last year. Akechi recalls the years spent there, how slowly, despite his attempts against it, it slowly filled with his presence. 

He never meant to make it a home, but he'd come to realize, sometimes you don't get a choice in the matter. Especially when he now had the friends he had. 

The apartment was slowly being filled with their presence as well. 

Just within stepping to feet inside he passed by the small roomba Akira had bought him. Subsequently named Bumblebee, after a childhood Transformers obsession Akechi will absolutely never willingly disclose. However Ryuji took to just calling it “Little man” and fist bumping it whenever he had him over. Which leads to the affront to fashion purple sweater Ryuji left on his couch right next to Ann’s hairbrush and if he looked hard enough he could probably find some of Yusuke’s color pencils. 

He should probably do that anyways, knowing how the artist valued his art supplies.

Akechi sighed, he'd been doing that alot lately, as he started his search. It shouldn't take him long, after all, the apartment was tiny. Not enough for one person, especially not enough for nine but somehow they made it work. 

He remembers the first time the group came over. A week after the business with Maruki, they had already celebrated at Leblanc, somehow the conversation turned to their respective homes and a day later they were all sardined together in his shoebox apartment. 

He remembers still being angry, on edge and all sorts of unwelcoming. He also remembers how they smiled at him anyways, wide and genuine. How they joked with him as they helped in the hot pot they were making. How they had wrangled him into pictures and videos. How at the end of the night Akira gave him a kiss and a small picture frame. Empty. 

“For when we print out tonight's pictures,” he had said with a smile.

The picture frame sits on his bedside table. It's one of them all, around the hot pot, Yusuke and Ryuji bickering over a piece of meat while the girls pose with a smile, Morgana in Futaba’s lap, Akechi was distracted eating and Akira was smiling, looking at him. 

It’s a nice picture, he thinks. 

Slowly yet all at once, his once desolate apartment filled with knick knacks and photographs he had gotten from them.

He passes by Bumblebee, who was whirring away on the kitchen floor as he continued his search for the colored pencils. It doesn't take him very long, finding them beneath his small couch and some scattered, tucked in corners of his excuse for a living room. 

He doesn't notice he’s out of breath until his vision hazes out of the edges, until he's clutching at the arm of his couch, leaning on it as he tries to breathe. 

He doesn't panic, refuses to call it that when he realizes he can't. Doesn’t panic when he starts to gasp and struggle. Does Not panic when he tries to talk but nothing comes out. Doesn’t panic when his throat clenches on nothing, when his hands turn into fists he can't unclench. When his muscles tense beyond belief and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, breathe. He tells himself. Screams in his head. He doesn't realize he’s shaking until he stands on unsteady legs as he tries to get to his phone, not remembering where it is.

Instead he stumbles into his bathroom, collapses unto the cold tile of the floor, where he curls into a ball and tries to get his head to stop swimming with fear. He focuses on the cool tiles, the way they feel on his sweaty skin, the wonders it does for how overheated he’d become. It clears his head just enough to start properly breathing.

He lays there for another hour. Breathing in and out. When the panic attack subsides he still lays there. Exhausted as he tries to wrap his head around what has happened. 

He knows. Knows it was a panic attack. Just refuses to acknowledge it. Because he hadn't had one since New Years, not even when faced with the reality of a false reality he never faltered. So why now? When everything was alright? 

Akechi laid there for another hour, breathing in the cool air. Breathing and reminding himself he was alive, that this was real. That he was fine, that he was better than this. 

He lays there and knows, he doesn't have the strength to get back up. 

-

The mention of a therapist comes up again only a few weeks later. He’s with Ryuji and Akira, dressed in their school gym clothes. Lent courtesy of Akira so he could hang out with them as they work out. 

He’d been watching Ryuji run laps, watched him in the golden afternoon sun as he ran with not a single trace of discomfort on his face. Only a grin. Akechi smiled softly at the sight. Glad for him. 

They were sitting next to him, where he had made a perch on the soft grass in the shade, sharing energy drinks and snack bars. 

“My mom got a referral to this one chick, I go see her in a week,” Ryuji exhaled as he gulped down more of his drink loudly, Akechi scowled at the sound and Ryuji poked his tongue out in return. “Anyways, want me to tell you if she’s good or not or are you gonna keep searching on your own?” Ryuji’s question was directed at Akira but he knew. It was meant for him too. His scowl deepened.

Akira hummed in thought, Akechi watched his chest rise and fall quickly, exertion from his work out. He wiped sweat from his brow and Akechi followed the movement with hungry eyes. “Sure, but I'm gonna keep searching in the meantime,” he replied and suddenly there were two pairs of eyes on him. He rolled his own. 

“No thank you,” he said, trying to keep the mean streak from his tone. 

“You know there’s nothing wrong with needing help right?” Ryuji said bluntly and Akira smacked him slightly. “Ouch! I'm just saying! Cause if that's what you're thinking it’s stupid, afterall we were teammates for a time and that had to be easier than doing shit alone! So, same difference!” Ryuji said, nonchalantly and expectantly.

Akechi decided not to tell him how anything was easier than being your father’s personal hitman at fifteen but decided not too, only laughing at him softly and turning to look away from them both. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I hope your meeting goes well though, Ryuji.”

Ryuji smiles and they both look unconvinced. Akechi bites down a shrug and lays down in the grass next to them. He doesn’t talk much the rest of the time, no one comments on it and he's relieved. 

-

**Group: Ex Social Reformers, Current Swag Owners**

**From: Ryuji**

**It went well guys!**

**From: Ryuji**

**She’s super cool**

**From: Akira**

**She let you say fuck and now you think she’s cool**

**From: Ryuji**

**That qualifies as ultimate coolness Akira.**

**From: Yusuke**

**Very glad to hear your appointment went well Ryuji**

**From: Ryuji**

**Thanks! I didn't even cry once**

**From: Futaba**

**Didn't cry? Then what's the point ?**

**From: Ryuji**

**It means im so strong**

**From: Akira**

**It means you need a couple more sessions you repressed emotions and covered them with anger king**

**From: Ryuji**

**Touche**

**From: Ann**

**AHH! IM SO HAPPY IT WENT WELL!!**

**From: Ann**

**My dude is really cool too, gives me jolly ranchers!!**

**From: Ann**

**When’s your next appointment?**

**From: Ryuji**

**In a week!!**

**From: Akira**

**WOO LETS FUCKING GETTTT ITTTT**

**Akechi:**

**Im happy your first appointment went well Ryu.**

He types it with shaking fingers and burning lungs. In an apartment too small for him, struggling to breathe again for the third time that week. His phone buzzes and his vision hazes, he cant read it. He lays down on the floor again, he's gotten used to this now. He lays down and starts counting, like he used too. Like when this first started. When he was sixteen and had to go see Shido, when he was fifteen and killed his first man, when he was six and his mom had just died.

He counted and tried to breathe and eventually it would end.

It would all end.

Eventually.

-

He wakes up to a weight on his chest, he doesn't need to open his eyes to know there's nothing there. He wakes up on the floor with an aching back and no energy to move. No want in his bones to get up. Everything in his body instantly screams into consciousness against moving.

Akechi groans, outloud, forgetting about the paper thin walls. Truly he didn't care. Not anymore.

He groaned and scowled as he moved to sit, breathless as he sat up. Leans against the foot of his couch. He blinks sleep from his eyes and looks around his apartment. He’s not here enough for it to be messy but it’s the messiest it’s ever been. 

His head spins with the thought of cleaning. So instead he climbs onto the couch on all fours and curls into a ball. As the weight on his chest gets heavier.

He doesn't know where it comes from, but he's choking on a sob. And it hurts. Like everything and nothing he’s felt before. It aches, within him, burns and blossoms throughout his body, rendering him a useless crying mess. Alone in a home too small for him. Too small for the fury that comes next, the rage that is so familiar and welcome, it feels like breathing for the first time. A fiery burn of the lungs and pure utter relief of air. 

He sinks his nails into the meat of his palm, sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, as he cries, cries, cries, like he hasn't cried in years. 

He stifled a scream, it chokes him, wraps around his throat a trail of tears that brand him as they fall. 

He sobs until his head throbs, his chest heaving and his soul aching with the weight of his memories, sins, life. He cries until he can't anymore.

He doesn't feel any better when he’s done. His phone buzzes far away and he doesn't bother to check, bother to move. Instead he pulled the blanket that lay next to him and covered himself with it.

Akechi doesn't move, he watches the sun rise and fall through his windows, watches it paint and darken his walls. His phone buzzes. Akechi doesn't move. The weight crushes and crushes. 

Akechi aches. 

-

  
  


He’s at Akira when his act catches up to him. It was a sleepover, the tiny attic completely packed with spare mattresses and sleeping bags that they all had to tip toe over whenever they wanted to go to any corner of the attic.

“It’s so completely unfair how Goro gets to sleep with ‘Kira” Ryuji says from the inside of his obnoxiously orange sleeping bag, clashing with his blonde hair.

“How the hell is it unfair? I have to share with Akira,” He replies and next to him Akira gasps in mock hurt.He kisses him in apology. It works.

“Akira’s mattress is way more comfy,” Ryuji replies and sinks deeper into his sleeping bag, next to Yusuke setting up the movie they are going to watch, rolling his eyes at the exchange. 

“Are you just sad you're not going to get bro cuddles tonight?” Ann laughed from her spot, sprawled across Makoto and Sumire’s legs head in Haru’s lap who was braiding and unbraiding Ann’s golden hair. 

“You're all my bros, so we can all cuddle,” Ryuji said and blushed at the resounding cooing that erupted around the room. 

“What movie are we watching?” Sumire’s soft voice called out to them, Akechi smiled fondly at her. She had truly opened up to them after everything was over, no longer the quiet girl who hung in the background, now an active member in their group. They were all proud of her.

“Loving Vincent,” Yusuke replied.

“Huh! I thought we were watching Insidious!” Ryuji yelled. 

“Why the fuck would I willingly put myself through that?” Akira said and Akechi couldn't help but agree. 

“You guys are all babies,” Ryuji sniffs and yowls when a pillow smacks him right in the face. 

“We are all gonna watch this cinematic masterpiece and we are gonna like it,” Yusuke said as he settled onto his side with the remote.

“Oh so we’re watching Parasite?” Akira said, his head leaned against Akechi’s shoulder, Akechi felt the words against his skin. 

“You're not wrong but also shut up,” Yusuke replied and pressed play, instantly the screen was filled with vivid colors and animation. It was beautiful. 

Akechi paid avid attention to the movie, hand entwined with Akira’s , other hand passing around snacks whenever asked. Yusuke barely took his eyes from the screen, occasionally commenting on how a scene was shot with a certain art technique that the others would hum along too. 

Akira was pressed against his side, mirroring the way Ann had shoved Ryuji into her ribs in the name of “Bro Cuddles.” On the floor, Futaba was petting Morgana as she watched her own show on her laptop, Makoto and Haru were discussing the movie in whispers as they softly blew on their freshly painted matching nails that Sumire had enjoyed painting for them. 

Akechi smiled at the scene, feeling his eyes grow heavy as the atmosphere brought his body to peace after weeks of unrelenting panic and feelings. His eyes grew a little watery at the scene, he shook his head slightly as if to dry the tears before they fell. 

“You okay?” Akira whispered to him, looking at him with open, _loving_ eyes.

“Yeah,” he said, and for the first time in months, no years, he meant it. 

Not long after the movie ended, Yusuke preached poetics about it and Akechi couldn't help but agree, the movie was beautiful. The night was young and they choose another movie, a dumb action comedy Akechi doesn't bother to remember the name of, instead burrowing into the sheets and pillows around him. 

He doesn't remember falling asleep.

His mind is foggy, he sees Akira, no. Joker. His black coat and feels nothing but ugly, horrible, psychotic rage. He blinks and all at once he sees Akira’s head hitting the cold steel table, he blinks and it's his mother in Akira’s place. He screams and he’s in Shido’s office and Shido is glowing golden all fire and pride and Akechi drowning, drowning, drowning. In a red ocean of buildings and devoid of hope. 

He drowns and comes too, to his own face sneering at him. Demeaning him, screaming and taunting and all at once it was over. With a gunshot Akechi woke up gasping, clawing at his throat.

“Goro, hey, hey you're okay,” Akira came into his vision, face scrunched in concern and Akechi wanted the ground to swallow him whole. Instead Akira pulled him into his arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. 

Akechi could only whimper and cry as Akira rocked them back and forth, as his nightmare played every time he closed his eyes. 

“Hmm wha’s going on?” Ryuji’s distant voice reached his ears and all Akechi’s blood went cold. He shook slightly as he tried to rip himself from Akira’s grasp, but he didn't have the will or the energy too. 

“It’s okay, it’s Ryu,” Akira whispered into his hair and Akechi wanted to disappear. 

“I don't want them to see me like this,” he gasped out, “I didn't want _you_ to see me like this,” he spit out and winced at his own tone. Akira only soothed a hand down his back as Ryuji moved around to turn on the soft twinkling lights overhead.

“He okay?” Ryuji said, standing far enough away but visibly struggling with not surging forward. 

Akechi didn't answer, only focused on his breathing and the overwhelming shame that was threatening to eat him. 

His breathing was so loud in the still night, raspy and uneven and beneath the soft light slowly, the others started to wake. 

As if it couldn't get any worse. 

“Wha- oh, wait what’s happening?” he heard Haru ask, the others parroting her with sleep in their voice. 

Akechi spared Akira a glance, eyes full of tears. Akira only smiled, a sad little smile back at him. And somehow, for the first time, it didn't make him overwhelmingly pissed. 

Instead it broke him down even more, and he sobbed and sobbed like he had been for weeks except this time, he felt lighter. 

Akira continued to whisper softly to him and Akechi felt the bed dip with the added weight of too many bodies and one by one he felt hands in his hair and on his back and Akira’s mantra of “You’re okay,” became a chorus and it was almost too much and just enough. 

He felt more pairs of arms wrap around him and soft paws curl up in his lap and there surrounded by warmth, for the first time in years, he felt okay. 

They stayed like that for a few minutes until he moved away and the others moved to give him space as well, sitting on the bed and the floor closest to him, waiting for him to talk. 

“I had a nightmare,” he said quietly, he looked as they nodded, waiting for him to continue. He blinked and took a deep breath as Akira squeezed his hand. 

“I had a nightmare, and I've been having panic attacks, and sometimes everything hurts to the point I can't move, I don't want to move. It aches and burns and I can't breathe. And I don't know what to do anymore. I thought I could handle it,” he takes a moment to breathe, moving his head to look at them all, staring at him with varying degrees of concern in their eyes. “I've always been able to handle it, for years, I have too. But I cant anymore and it feels so fucking bad and so fucking stupid, i hate it so much,” he finishes and he feels weightless and like he’s trying to catch his breath at the same time. 

He leaned against Akira’s shoulder, closing his eyes, not wanting to see the gears turning in their heads, the pity in their eyes. He just wanted to sleep. 

“You don't have to do that anymore Goro,” Akira starts, ah, his _leader_. Akechi smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Yeah! You have us now!” Ryuji yells and Akechi laughs as the others shush him. 

“You're not alone anymore, you don't have to hold that all on your own and I'm sorry you've had to go through what you have, but you’re here. You're alive and breathing and we love you,” Akira said, strict and voice unwavering. He picked his head up to see the others nodding and humming along and Akechi felt like crying all over again. 

“We love you and we’re so glad you're here,” Akira finished and Akechi looked to see tears in his eyes too and that opened the floodgates once more. All at once the attic filled with sniffles from nine collectively traumatized friends. Once again arms wrapped around his bodies as they whispered affirmatives into his hair. 

“It’s gonna get better,” he hears Ann whisper and feels her plant a soft kiss at the top of his head. 

“Thank you for telling us,” Makoto says, rubbing his back from her place on the floor. 

“It was very brave of you,” Sumire says and Akechi laughs softly and smiles through tears. That's the first time he's heard that and it's because he's crying. 

“It was, you're a super strong dude, but you don't have to be all the time, it's okay,” Ryuji ruffles his hair and Akechi scrunches his nose at that. 

“You've gone through so much, it is okay to feel them,” Yusuke adds and Akechi blinks the tears from his eyes and sits up straight. Breathing in deeply a few times, looking at each one of them as they look back at him with only softness and kindness on their lips and in their eyes. 

He turns to Akira, who only has love for him in his eyes and he exhales. 

“Thank you,” he says, quiet yet loud in the stillness of the night. “Thank you,” he says again, and there in that attic that had seen him at his worst, in front of people who had seen him at his worst, people who look at him like a _person_ , as their friend. He breathes and for the first time in weeks, months, years. He feels lighter.

The ache in his soul lessens. 

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it. 

**Author's Note:**

> hmm mental illness.
> 
> Anyways. Obv theres no way I can diagnose Akechi (or anyone for that matter lmao) but this is what I think he would be dealing with after everything and shit. This was, cathartic to write, hopefully not to heavy to read. Hope you guys enjoyed. 
> 
> Hashtag get these kids to an actual therapist asap. 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Zoldyke_)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
